


The Test

by Rageycakes



Category: Cassandra Palmer Series - Karen Chance
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 14:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rageycakes/pseuds/Rageycakes
Summary: Someone needs to babysit, and who better than a traumatized, kid-phobic war mage?





	The Test

“Everything is going to be okay,” Cassie whispered. “I’ll be back. I _swear_.” She cupped his face between her hands and poured every ounce of sincerity she had into her expression.

Pritkin’s eyes had a sort of madness to them sometimes, a frantic, wild gleam, and that’s what she saw in them now as he shook his head and made a noise perilously close to a whimper.

“Cassie, please. Don’t go.” His voice was a rasp, a desperate hand reaching in the darkness.

She rolled her eyes. 

“Okay, honestly, that’s enough. You’re being a baby. You’re worse than _them_.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the dozen or so little girls in the center of the room, sitting quiet and coiffed and looking for all the world like a tiny gang of fundamentalist sister-wives.

Pritkin spared them the barest of glances and shot a scowl back at Cassie, that delightful muscle in his jaw ticking with evident irritation. She smiled. He was totally going to cave.

“Fine. But I’m telling you right now, I have absolutely no experience with children. They weren’t exactly thick on the ground in hell, you know. And I know nothing about little girls.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and raised an elegant brow in a disturbing imitation of his father’s patented smugness. “We have nothing in common. What will we talk about? The conversations will be excruciatingly dull.”

“Ha, you’re hilarious. It’s just a few kids. They’re so serene and polite, you won’t even notice them.” She pried his crossed arms open and put them around her, closing the gap between them so she could stretch up and plant a chaste kiss on his lips. “Try to be nice. I’ll be back soon.”

He managed to shoot her one final, desperate pout before she shifted.

 

**************

Cassie didn’t know what to expect when she shifted back. She experienced a small stab of trepidation at what might be awaiting her, and it made her feel slightly disloyal. She trusted Pritkin with her life, after all, and she’d never known anyone more capable of tackling any crisis that was thrown at him.

And anyway, she reasoned, it had only been an hour. How much damage could be done in an hour? The girls still had a long way to go toward coming out of their shells, especially around strangers (which was nearly everyone) and _especially_ around brusque and frightening war mages. They were practically catatonic around Pritkin, who, for his part, had barely even noticed them at all. They’d probably just sit there in uncomfortable silence the entire time, each eyeing the other with wary suspicion. Right?

Of all the times in her life that Cassandra Palmer had been wrong (and there were many, oh, there were), this would probably take the cake, the prize, the trophy, _and_ the blue fucking ribbon. 

She popped back into the main living room of the suite, ready to feast her eyes on a tableau entitled _Uptight British People_ and instead found...whatever this was. To her shock, no one immediately pounced on her in worshipful appreciation for her return. In fact, no one noticed her at all. She took the opportunity to absorb the scene before her.

Pritkin was sitting on the formerly pristine carpet of the living room, only you’d hardly know it because he had apparently contracted a little girl infestation. 

The littlest of the Pythian Court girls, the five or so that could be classified as toddler-aged, seemed to be using him as their personal jungle gym. He had one on each of his broad shoulders, one on his back, and two on his lap, each of them babbling happily to him, shouting over each other (loudly, based on his frequent winces) and slapping him wherever they could in an attempt to dominate his attention. 

The older girls had gotten to him, too. The makeup kit she left in her _private_ bathroom had been appropriated, its contents applied liberally and without discernible artistry to Pritkin’s face. Garish pink and blue eyeshadow was smeared over his eyelids, and bright pink lipstick slashed over his thin lips in an especially grim Joker impression. Copious amounts of rainbow glitter had been applied to...everything. Including his hair, which on his best days looked merely obnoxious and right now looked downright appalling, sticking up in clumps sticky with product (and possibly glue?). An open and abandoned bottle of her favorite pink nail polish lay on its side near his bare feet, spilling onto the carpet, and Cassie glanced at his toes in horror. He’d apparently received the full mani-pedi treatment as well. 

 

The girls that weren’t currently crawling all over him were performing what appeared to be a ritualistic dance of celebration all around him, bouncing in circles and screaming their delight at a makeover well done. Pritkin himself sported his ever-present look of the Man Of Perpetual Suffering, but with a not-unkind wry twist to his lips. He looked...fond? Exasperated, yes, but...there was something else there, something unfamiliar on his features.

The most shocking change, however, was not Pritkin. It was the girls. They had been so meek still, slow to adapt to their new, freer environment. It was completely understandable; they’d been so traumatized by everything that had happened to and around them, and by the suffocating circumstances of their upbringing under the Circle’s control, that they often came off as solemn, even to the point of sullen. Cassie had fully expected their rehabilitation to be a long and arduous process of earning their trust and teaching them to be children again. But here, in the span of an hour, it was like a dam had broken. 

And maybe it was only for today, and maybe they would retreat into stoicism again, but major progress had been made. Cassie looked over at Pritkin again, wondering what he’d done to facilitate this breakthrough, and found him staring at her, looking defensive and more than a little embarrassed. She raised her eyebrows in question, and then watched as, predictably, he threw his defenses back up. Jaw set, shoulders squared, scowl firmly affixed to his face.

“That’s enough!” Pritkin barked suddenly and stood up, his movements terse and sharp, though Cassie noted he kept a firm protective grip on the little ones to keep them from toppling. He set them gently on the floor and then stepped back, giving the group a stern and unfriendly look. Which they promptly ruined by bursting into peals of giggles.

His scowl deepened and he stomped past Cassie on his way out of the room. He conspicuously avoided her gaze, but she was pretty sure she’d seen the barest hint of a suppressed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

 

****************

 

It was the little things that gave him away. 

Cassie watched him covertly, from a distance, over the next week. This was the only way to observe him in his kindnesses and affections; if you noticed him, or made eye contact (or, god forbid, actually spoke to him), he was liable to get spooked, and then all her hard work to domesticate him would be for nothing. So, she watched him in secret.

On Monday morning when she walked by the cracked-open bathroom door and caught a glimpse of him braiding one of the girls’ hair, she walked on without comment.

On Tuesday when one of the little ones fell down and he nearly exploded out of his seat to help her up, only to realize what he was doing and run out of the room without explanation instead, she pretended not to notice.

Breakfast on Wednesday was the same noisy affair as every day, but when Violet started pouting for more bacon, Pritkin gave her the slices from his plate. When Rhea opened her mouth to protest, Cassie kicked her soundly under the table. 

She nearly had a heart attack on Thursday when she caught him tying a shoe.

Cassie wondered how long he’d be able to keep up the charade. How long she’d have to continue pretending she didn’t know how thoroughly these kids had him wrapped around their fingers. 

On Friday she popped back in from a meeting with Jonas to a nearly empty room. Marco and Rico appeared to be teaching Rhea how to play poker. With actual money. Cassie bit her lip disapprovingly, but decided against saying anything. Rhea was an adult, and treating her like a child wasn’t going to help her grow up. Besides, Cassie knew Rico wouldn’t let her lose too much. 

“Hey, where is everyone?” They didn’t even look up. Some guards they were.

“Dunno. The mage dragged them somewhere. He’s not very good at pretending he doesn’t like them, is he?” Marco snorted. “Didn’t work when he tried that with you, either.”

“He’s astonishingly transparent, isn’t he?” Rico agreed, not taking his eyes off Rhea. Marco looked at him pointedly.

“Yeah, speaking of -”

“CHECK THE GYM!” Rico shouted over Marco, aiming a vicious kick at him under the table.

Cassie shifted before she could bear witness to _that_ confrontation.

 

Chaos. She shifted into chaos. 

Pritkin was standing in the middle of the gymnasium, holding a wooden sword aloft. He was looking a little...tense. Probably because a dozen Pythian Court girls and a handful of Misfits, all brandishing matching training weapons, were running wild around him.

“Defensive positions! No - not like - OW!” One of the girls whacked him in the shin with the sword, sending all of them into hysterical giggles. He threw his head back and heaved a sigh.

“Got away from you, huh?” Cassie smirked. Only Pritkin could honestly believe himself prepared to lead this many rowdy children in self-defense. 

He scowled. “They need discipline. You spoil them.”

“ _I_ spoil them?”

“They need to learn to protect themselves. I can’t-” Pritkin stopped himself. “We are responsible for them. There are so many threats.” He looked down when one of the toddlers sat on his foot and hugged his leg in a death grip, looking up at him with blind adoration. His smile was a grimace; bare, vulnerable, terrified. 

Cassie loved him so fiercely in that moment that it nearly floored her. This man, this sharp-edged, razor-wire fence of a man, was perfect. She’d known those instincts were there, despite his upbringing. Maybe even because of it. He had just needed a little prodding, a little...test. Her experiment had been successful even beyond her considerable expectations.

Pritkin was scared, but so was she. They were as ready as they ever would be, despite the less-than-ideal timing.

She took a deep breath, and looked at him square in the eyes. It was now or never. 

“I’m pregnant.”


End file.
